I mistakenly thought that going on patrol would cheer me up, but I am so wrong. I hop around Midtown listening to Paul Oakenfield and all I accomplish is bringing my pulse rate up a little. I end up just sitting on a rooftop, moping.
Okay, here it is: I kind of miss Hydrangea a little. I mean, I could get used to hanging out with somebody like that. You know, a pretty girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have friends and stuff, but I can't really tell them about the secret identity or else it wouldn't be a secret identity, would it? I can't tell my brother, either. It makes me feel like a dick. Then on the other hand, I have my superhuman peer group; people like Wombat and Kestrel and her. It's great to have other super freaks to talk shop and team up with and stuff, but it's sort of a business relationship - you always have to have your game face on.
Maybe I should get a cat.